


hits me like a rock

by Rag



Series: trash ship week [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Arguing, Codependency, Flashbacks, Lack of Communication, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Triggers, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rag/pseuds/Rag
Summary: the one where dave and karkat have pretty incompatible triggers





	hits me like a rock

**Author's Note:**

> this dynamic pained me to write but i've been wondering for a while how they might react if dave was triggered by yelling and karkat was triggered by lack of communication
> 
> karkat is borderline abusive here and they're both pretty codependent
> 
> for trash week day 2: triggers

Your name is Karkat Vantas and after months of near-solitude, you have a friend again. A real, living friend, who you like a whole fucking lot, who can apparently stomach the sight of you more than a few minutes a day. And you like to think that you like him for him, outside of the fact that he’s the only person who tolerates you.

But as much as you like Dave, you’re getting really fucking sick of his shit. He seems to flip the fuck out whenever you flip the fuck out, which is the opposite of productive, and tends to make you flip the fuck out harder. And it seems like the closer you get, the more the two of you set each other off.

Take yesterday, for example. The two of you were _fine_ , totally fine, looking out over the ship and watching the stars fly by in their overwhelmingly dizzying way. Totally relaxed, or mostly relaxed, and everything was fine. And then you realized you didn’t know whether or not they were actually stars, or some other bullshit stupid fuck nonsense, and maybe your voice got a little too loud but goddamnit you were fucking pissed because this ship is fucking stupid and this game is fucking stupid and maybe you fucking hate being here and being alive. All that considered, you think you did a damn good job of keeping your anger in check.

Dave didn’t seem to agree. You use the word “seem” because he never fucking says _anything_ outright, just tenses up and makes some excuse for why he has to leave. Sometimes he even pauses time before you can argue. It drives you absolutely fucking batshit, and he refuses to acknowledge it even happens.

You have no idea what he’s thinking, and you hate that. Because when you don’t know, really _know_ , what someone is thinking, bad shit happens. You've tried giving people their space, and you know exactly what comes of it. You  _need_ to know what he's thinking. You need to know exactly when he’s going to leave, exactly what’s going to upset him, and why. Is that too much to ask? How else are you supposed to know how to act around him so that he won't leave you?

You know you’re getting angry more often, and he’s leaving more often. You know this is a problem. You feel this building towards something explosive. The powder keg is set to blow and your shaking fingers are clutching the tip of a lit match. The best part is, you have no fucking idea what’s setting him off, because sometimes he’s totally fucking fine with your venting!

You love this. You love everything about this. This is your favorite fucking dynamic that you’ve ever had with anyone, ever. Even better than the flaming pile of grub shit that was Eridan – no, you’re not touching that, you’re not going there, even _you_ aren’t overdramatic enough to make that comparison, what the fuck is wrong with you?

-

You knock on his door to hang out today, because he wasn’t in his usual spots. He doesn’t answer for way too long. When he opens the door - not all the way, you notice - you’re already pissed.

“H-hey,” he says. He already looks a little uneasy.

You try to calm down. Another lovely byproduct of this dynamic is that you’re always stressed. Never knowing what’s going to set him off is stressful as fuck. And your go-to form of stress relief has always been anger.

You’re going to ruin this. You’re going to fucking ruin this.

“Are you busy?” you demand.

_Calm the fuck down._

“Not really.” But he doesn’t say anything else.

“Do you want to hang out?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Yeah, that’s. Good. Hanging out. Uh, wait, actually. Do you need to, like. Take a walk first?”

“Why the fuck would I need to take a walk?”

“You seem kind of. Maybe a little incredibly fucking pissed.”

“This again? Already? Holy fucking tits, this is a new record. I’ll be less pissed when we stop fucking talking about how pissed I am, how’s that?”

Dave takes a deep breath. He doesn’t open the door further. He actually closes it a little. “I, uh, actually I have something I have to do for a while.”

_Wow._

“Bullshit.”

“No, uh, I really gotta go.”

And he closes the door. In your face. He doesn’t slam it, but you hear the lock gently click into place.

“Really? Are you fucking serious, Dave?”

“Karkat,” he says seriously. “Fuck. Off.”

The lit match drops.

You feel like you’re going to vomit. This is it, then. Chalk up another spectacularly failed relationship for Karkat Vantas. He’s had enough of your shit. He's leaving you, he's fucking leaving, just like Sollux left you, just like Terezi and Gamzee and Eridan and Kanaya, without an explanation, after years, because you're not worth explaining to, you're not worth tolerating. You spent so much of your life alone and you were an idiot for thinking you could have friends because they're all going to leave you, all of them, every time.

You feel like you’re going to pass out. You feel like you're going to scream.

“Excuse me? Sorry, did I fucking hear you correctly? Did you just tell me to fuck off? What the fuck, Dave?!

“Yes. Fuck off. Leave me alone for a fucking hour, we can hang out later, holy shit what’s your problem?”

“No, I don’t think I will. Why should I? Tell me what the fuck is going on, why the fuck do you keep leaving every time I raise my fucking voice?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re in there. You can’t fucking wait me out. I’m not letting this die without a fight.”

He doesn’t answer.

You pound on the door a few times. Fuck. Dig that hole deeper, Vantas. This will surely get him back! But you don’t care, you can’t bring yourself to care, because you have to do _something_.

“Open the fucking door, Dave.”

He doesn’t.

“Come on!” You kick it.

The door unlocks and swings open. Is he shaking?

“No. No. Karkat. No. Listen. You have to leave. You have to fucking leave. Karkat. Leave me alone. You have to leave me alone. I can’t fight. I can’t fight with you. I won’t. I can’t.” He’s fumbling with his sylladex, but his movements are too shaky. A deck of playing cards falls on the floor. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, fuck-" He sounds like he thinks he’s going to fucking die. You’ve never seen him this upset.

You  _absolutely_ fucked up.

“Dave, uh.” You try to reach for him and he flinches back violently.

“Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me-“

 _Holy shit_ you fucked up, he’s having a total meltdown.

You yank your hands back, clutch them to your chest awkwardly, and take a few steps back.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to-“

“Leave me alone, please, go away, please please go away.”

“O-okay.”

You turn to leave. You hear the door behind you close, the lock click into place. You think you hear sounds of furniture moving around in his room, but you don’t stick around to snoop, because he wants you gone.

-

You don’t see him for a full week after that. In part because you don’t seek him out. Because you’d rather be alone than have to subject anyone to your- no, enough with the histrionic self-flagellation, you fucked up. You fucked up and pounded on his door like a fucking maniac, and he reacted strongly to it.

And then he knocks on your door. You open it, but he doesn’t come inside.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.”

The silence is thick and awkward.

“I’m sorry about last week. I was a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks,” he says uncomfortably. “I, uh. I just can’t deal with the anger shit. Apparently. Sorry.”

It feels like a kick to your stomach. You’re pretty sure you know what this means.

“Is that. It? Then?” _For us?_ Remains unspoken, but you think he understands.

He’s quiet again.

“I mean. Could you try to cool it?”

Is he giving you another chance? You want to cry. Fuck.

“Yeah. I didn’t know it would. I didn’t know you. You know?”

He nods.

“Do you want to, like. Talk about it?”

“No.”

His response is so blunt and immediate that it catches you off guard. “O-okay.”

The silence in the pauses is deafening. You try not to get mad about the fact that, yet again, he’s not letting you in on jack shit. Friendship with Dave remains an eternal guessing game wherein you have to try to tamp yourself down on the off chance that something might set off any one of his hundred mystery buttons. No, what the fuck is wrong with you right now? Is it so much to ask that you just chill the fuck out and not flip your shit around him when he’s clearly fucked up about it?

“Fuck. It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it? There’s no going back from that.”

Panic, hives, bugs skittering down your nerves. You don’t want him to leave you, especially not after he decided to give you another chance, especially after you got so close to something good.

“No. Please. I can try. I can be better about it.”

“No, I just. On my end? I don’t get why you’re so pissed all the time, I just. I don’t get it. And I can’t, like. If I don’t get it. You didn’t used to be so pissed all the time, you know? And I guess I thought. That you’d chill out if we, like, hung out more, but it seems like you’re just getting angrier.”

Well, fuck it. Apparently you’re doing this. You have nothing else to lose, but more importantly, he’s _actually opening up to you_ , and you’re not going to fail to return the favor.

“I’ve been pissed. Lately. At you. Because you just leave without saying anything, and that. Freaks me out. A lot. Maybe more than it should?”

“Oh, shit.” He laughs weakly. “Here I was hoping I was imagining it.”

God, you’re an asshole. “No. It was real. I probably should have said something sooner. Fuck, I really should have said something sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Silent static.

“So. You get pissed, I freak out and leave. That pisses you off further. I leave more. That pisses you off further. Is that about where we’re at?”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

Another pause.

“Got ourselves in quite a pickle, didn’ we?” He laughs weakly.

“Yeah.”

You laugh too. You understand what he’s not saying here. The two of you are kind of fucked. This set of issues really don’t mesh. You’re fucked. You’re doomed – no, you’re being overdramatic, and he’s willing to work with you. Probably. You’re pretty sure he is, or he wouldn’t be here.

 “I mean,” he says, “I like hanging out with you, a lot. But I can’t with the anger and the shouting and throwing shit. You know? I just. Can’t.”

“Okay.”

“I mean. Ok, opening up time, I guess,” he says, but his voice gets weaker and shakier. “I had that for, like. Years. With. Someone. He.” He gets quiet. “No, nope, nevermind. Anyways. If you didn’t do that I think we’d be pretty fucking golden.”

You wonder if maybe it’s not so much that he doesn’t _want_ to open up to you, but that he can’t. And maybe it’s not just because it’s you. Maybe he just can’t say it. You can’t imagine what’s on the other side of those words, to make Dave Strider completely silent in the face of it. But you know better than to push it.

“Okay. Can you, maybe, give me some like. Warning? When I’m going too far?”

“Yeah, shit, that’s only fair. I mean, I can try. Get too far and, well. You know. Not really in a place to say much.”

You nod.

“Okay, cool,” he says. “So we’ll try that.”

“Okay.”

-

Honestly? You’re terrified. You _have_ to succeed, or you will absolutely destroy this, and you’ll lose your only friend. But you can’t imagine you’ll be able to pull this off without a fuckton of failure first. You’re acutely aware that any one of those failures could be the last straw.

But you have to try.

**Author's Note:**

> i like to think they figure it out w a lot of hard work but it's up to you to decide how it goes down


End file.
